Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Equatorial Guinea and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing EPMD to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Slave. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
This Heat,
Dark Day,
Susan Cadogan,
ABBA,
Sound Behaviour,
Freddie Wadling,
CMW,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Scott Walker,
The Moody Blues,
Lightning Bolt,
June of 44,
Franke,
Archie Shepp,
Aloha Tigers,
Yaz,
Adolescents,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Oblivians,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Carl Craig,
Nico,
The Searchers,
The Trojans,
Black Sheep,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Sonics,
Kurtis Blow,
Inner City,
Chris & Cosey,
Reagan Youth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nas,
The Modern Lovers,
Pantytec,
The Motions,
The Stooges,
Rufus Thomas,
Jacques Brel,
Altered Images,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Don Cherry,
Hoover,
Marshall Jefferson,
DJ Style,
Joensuu 1685,
Second Layer,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bauhaus,
Josef K,
The Sonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Neil Young,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dead C,
Main Source,
The Electric Prunes,
Skarface,
K-Klass,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang On A Can,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.